


Twin Stars

by Danko_Kaji



Series: [356 Days] The Misadventures of Bilyana and Claude [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Hints of F!Byleth/Edelgard, Pre-Time Skip, Prequel to 'You & Me', Spoilers for Chapter 13, Takes place during the trip back to the monastery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-13 11:06:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20581481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danko_Kaji/pseuds/Danko_Kaji
Summary: She did not see him truly then, a shot in the dark, a youth of questionable intent. His emerald green eyes were piercing and shrewd, studying her despite his pleasant airs. The fact his smile never reached his eyes unnerved her. Yet she had only seen him around other people, never alone.Claude twists around, as if sensing her presence, and her breath catches in her throat.Not alone. They are alone together..In which two singularities make contact, crystalizing into kismet.(Or, Claude lucked out and Bilyana found him first, establishing their chemistry.)





	Twin Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I am finally done with this, ohmigod. And this does not encompass all of my ideas! There could be a part 2, I don't know. But I had too much fun writing this.
> 
> A huge shout-out to reinaxregina and her wonderful one-shot for picking my brain to finish this first. I always wanted to explore Byleth's chemistry with Claude before The Choice (especially before their inevitable relationship as teacher and student).
> 
> I also enjoy writing a sinister, pining Edelgard a little too much. XD

Bilyana rises at the crack of dawn, crawling out of the tent she and her father shared to stand up and stretch. Remnants of winter chill still clings to the Great Tree Moon, and she shivers, pulling her loose black cloak tighter over her shoulders. Faerghus will be much colder once they fulfill their impromptu summons at the monastery. She takes comfort in that little thought. 

As the earliest risers of Jeralt’s Mercenaries are tasked with hunting game for breakfast, Bilyana wonders if she will be lucky enough to find a Duscur Grizzly fresh out of hibernation. If not bear, deer meat shall suffice, even though they are past the prime time for bow hunting. Bilyana props her chin on her palm, contemplating. What kind of fish dwells in the Oghma mountains? Bass and catfish, maybe? Does she even have time to spare? For a dozen men and more, maybe if she spent the entire morning. But they have extra mouths to feed, young nobles eager to return home. 

She drops her arm and sighs. Fetching rope and her pack of medicine and hygienic essentials from their caravan, Bilyana secures her sword between her belt and hip and heads for the nearby stream, intent on rinsing off her crusted face and refilling their water skins. Once she relieves herself there, she will start searching for animal tracks.

To her surprise, someone else occupies the river bank before her. Streaks of sunlight filter through the thick canopy of fir trees, highlighting the lone individual knelt in silence. Curious, she does not break pace, recognizing the bright yellow of his cape draped over his shoulder. It’s the boy who likes to chatter, who jokes around and pokes fun at everything, especially his two companions. A crisp breeze rises, carrying the echoes of solemn words so unlike his light-hearted demeanor that she halts in her tracks, craning her ears to listen.

“...earth blesses all life, and the earth connects all living things… we are children of the earth, and borders can never divide us. Oh, Fódlan, land of the fair! Bless us with the light to guide us through darkness.” 

With his head bowed and palms clasped in prayer, he takes one last deep breath and then stands, stretching his arms over his head, before swinging them back down to his sides. Placing a hand on his hip, he looks towards the dawning sky. 

Bilyana stares, captivated by his glowing silhouette. His golden earring glistens in the sunlight, drawing her eyes to the side profile of his face half-shrouded in shifting shadows. Wind rises to ruffle the trees overhead, casting leaves to cascade the air, altering the path of light, yet she can still see him as clear as day. Glittering gold, wearing skin of bronze and clothes of obsidian, he almost seems to blend with the verdant earth. 

She did not see him truly then, a shot in the dark, a youth of questionable intent. His emerald green eyes were piercing and shrewd, studying her despite his pleasant airs. The fact his smile never reached his eyes unnerved her. Yet she had only seen him around other people, never alone.

Claude twists around, as if sensing her presence, and her breath catches in her throat. 

Not alone. They are alone together.

He grins, slipping the mask back on, and the spell evaporates. Pivoting on his heel, he approaches her, a hand raised in greeting. “Good morning! How long were you standing there? You shoulda said something!” And then he halts in front of her, resting his hand on his hip, considering her. “Unless... you were spying on me? You were spying on me, weren’t you? I gotta say, I’m impressed. You beat me to the punch.” 

“What are you doing here?”

“Last time I checked, Faerghus and Adrestia do not own these lands―.”

“I meant…” She pauses to sigh, annoyed. “What are you doing awake so early?”

“Am I not allowed to be?” He smiles, amused.

Bilyana hardens her gaze, and moves to brush past him, resuming her original path to the stream. Why must he insist on answering questions with inane questions? She walks until she reaches the bank, stooping to splash water on her face. 

"Did I make you mad? Sorry, sorry! I'm a natural jokester. I couldn't help myself." He hurries after her, unrepentant smile in place as he joins her at the bank, stooping on his toes. "So, what brings _you_ out this early in the day?"

"I sleep light." Combing her fingers through her thick, teal hair, she steals a glance, unnerved by the constant smile plastered on his face. She wonders what would it take for it to falter, and decides to fish for hints. "You were praying."

"You caught me. I always start my mornings with meditation. But this time, I had to make it extra special." 

He did not give her the impression that he indulged in quiet moments of spiritual repose. The question comes out unbidden, intrigued by his duality. "How so?"

"If I told you, you'd just laugh at me and call me a weirdo."

"I wouldn't laugh at you."

"Not yet." He winks at her, splashing his face with water, delighting in the crisp cold sensation with a deep breath. "You haven't gotten to know me, yet."

"And you're already weird. That would be stating the obvious."

"Now that's just rude."

"Hn." She brushes off his light-hearted theatrics, withdrawing her wooden toothbrush and flask of mint gel from her pack to start scrubbing her teeth.

"Well, if you must know, I was giving the earth spirits my thanks for guiding our paths to cross. The wind spirits deserve special mention for listening to my plight. I would have been toast if you hadn't stepped in."

Silence settles for a long moment until she spits out the paste, rinsing her mouth. "'I'?"

"I wasn't worried about those two." He waves his hand, dismissive. "Me? I'm good at running away, but the second I get caught, I'm done for. I'm not a warrior like Edelgard and Dimitri. I prefer my distance. See?" He pulls his arms back to retrieve his bow, flexing to sling an imaginary arrow on loose string. "Say what you will about my sword arm, but _I_ am a master shot."

"I saw."

"Oh yeah?" He smirks, wagging his eyebrows. "Dazzled by my form?"

She blinks. "It's better than my bow arm for sure. It could use some polishing, though."

"Wow, that's huge coming from a warrior goddess such as yourself."

She quirks an eyebrow. "Warrior goddess?"

"That's what you looked like to me last night." He winks with a charming smile, unabashed. 

She stares, recognizing that sparkle in his eyes, the smooth lilt in his voice. In the taverns and bars her father liked to frequent, she watched many men act in a similar fashion around pretty barmaids. She knew what he wanted― her strength, her tactical knowledge― but she did not understand why that warranted such high praise. She did what anyone would do to survive, after all. His ulterior motive, disguised by his hand of friendship, does not bother her as much as his lack of recognition for her father does. 

Jeralt Reus Eisner made all the decisions between them, signing contracts and organizing communications with all their clients. She trusted his judgement, as he had taught her everything she knew to survive. He ought to be the target of their admiration, not her. 

"My father was with us, too. I don't hear you singing his praises."

"I gotta admit, he was an absolute titan on the battlefield, bulldozing through everyone in his path. A fearsome sight to behold." Claude continues on without skipping a beat, folding his arms over his bent knees. "No 'fense, but your pops got that chiseled, grizzly look down to a T. I'm scared he will whittle me down to size. But you, you're not half as scary. You're probably not that much older than me, yet you were so strong and fearless! You intercepted that bandit with such ease, I assure you, Edelgard wasn't the only one swooning from your dashing entrance."

Bilyana blinks, flabbergasted by his dramatics. Claude talks too much, over-glorifying normal simple feats with the color and bombast of an unquenchable orator. Even so, she finds his energy pleasant, if not a little overwhelming.

"You know, once we reach Garreg Mach, we might end up becoming classmates. That is, if that's what you want to do."

"I don't know. It's up to what my father decides."

"Yeah? Well, what do _you_ want?"

Bilyana freezes, startled by the nonchalant question. _What I… want to do…?_

_He's got a point._ Sothis sighs in the chasm of her mind, startling her with the reverberative echoes of her contemplative, piteous voice. _For a mortal, you seem… broken, out of sorts. I don't sense any desire or passion emanating from your actions._

_Not true_, Bilyana refutes. She felt something when she watched Edelgard stand her ground against that bandit leader charging straight for her, a spark of ferocity and panic that propelled her feet to move, taking the blow for her. If not for Sothis's power over time, Bilyana would have died. Even so, she regrets nothing. Sothis still persists, not impressed by her rare impulse of recklessness.

_Nothing motivates you except the thought of your next meal._

As if on cue, a loud, keen rumbling breaks the silence, reeling her back to reality. She places a hand on her stomach, a touch embarrassed, wondering if the sound came from her.

"That was probably me." Claude laughs, rubbing the back of his head. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving!"

She exhales through her nose, relieved, the moment short-lived when she feels it rumbling in her stomach this time. Pink tinges her cheeks. 

"Okay, that was _definitely_ you―."

"Shut up." She tightens her jaw, self-conscious. 

"Even your face is blushi― Uwa!" 

_ Splash! _

~

Claude sneezes, wrapping her cloak tighter around his shivering frame. "I hate the cold. Why did it have to be so cold…"

Guilt gnaws at her chest, and she averts her eyes, ignoring his fifth sneeze in the past fifteen minutes of their foraging. They left his yellow cape and uniform trench coat at the bank to dry, intending to retrieve them once they returned to camp with fresh game. She hopes Claude does not contract a cold because of her. What possessed her to push him into a river like that?

"...I'm sorry."

"S'okay. I was being a brat anyway."

"If you're aware, then why do you act that way?"

"Because it's more interesting that way! Don't you agree?"

She hums, amused. "You're not wrong."

They fall into companionable silence, sometimes broken by the murmur of idle chatter as they pick berries and munch on nuts, following the shallow trail of flattened grass. When the trail fades, they take to searching for hoof prints in softer ground as well as any stray droppings. An hour in, and Bilyana sighs in aggravation, snacking on beef jerky to hold herself over. She offers her last one to Claude and they find a comfortable nook in an overturned tree trunk to rest. She hates tracking deer in the spring. Prints are harder to see in mud when you have things like fallen leaves, overgrown grass, and filaments covering the soil. Plus, this area lacks small trees for bucks to mark their territory.

"You know," Claude says, breaking the silence, chewing thoughtfully, "We should look farther away from camp. With a group like yours and the Knights of Seiros in their clunky armor, we probably scared away all the good game. It's not rutting season, so... let's look for beddings and food plots. Maybe if we check the foot of the trees, we can find some scrapes."

Bilyana peers at him, impressed. Those were some things she never thought to consider. "You're experienced in hunting."

"You could say that." He shrugs, content to leave it at that.

Odd, how he opts not to boast about it.

"Okay. Let's do it your way. You lead and I follow." She stands after finishing her jerky, offering a hand to pull Claude onto his feet. 

He fishes out a round compass from his pocket and studies it for a quick second. "We're camped to the south towards Garreg Mach and we ventured west, so... actually, let's return south and go past the camp. It's warmer towards the equator, and we'd be moving further away from Faerghus, which tends to hit arctic temperatures year round. Yeesh..."

"Impressive."

He chuckles, his smile smug. "I'm a man of practical talents." 

"I didn't think noblemen learned outdoor survival skills as part of their education."

"Nah." He brushes that off, rubbing his nose. "It's a hobby of mine... Oh, look! Mushrooms! Over here."

For once, the chatterbox shies away from conversation. Bilyana peers at him, intrigued by his reticence and his swift dodge at the subject.

Following him to the base of a towering, thick fir tree, she finds him inspecting a cluster of tall brown mushrooms. Kneeling down to his level, she watches him pluck a couple of red-capped ones amongst their slender, ridge-capped lookalikes, and she immediately snatches his hand. "Don't pick those. They're false morels and they're poisonous."

"I know." He rolls his eyes, snatching his hand back. "That's why I'm grabbing them."

"..."

"What? I like to dabble in poisons. It's a perfectly healthy hobby. Besides, I'm not planning on killing anyone―"

"No need to justify yourself. I didn't say anything."

"But your eyes were judging me."

"Hn."

Bilyana decides to ignore his petulant pout in favor of collecting the real ones, knowing her father liked to eat morels in a creamy bisque soup.

Kneeling side by side like this, bumping shoulders as they pick mushrooms, sorting out the poisonous ones from their benign counterparts, tickles at a distant, fuzzy memory. Of a time long ago, venturing into other countries beyond the sea outside Fódlan's four corners. One particular memory comes to mind, of camping out within the borderlands of Almyra. She had been fascinated by their exotic fabrics and strong spices, the architecture vibrant and breathtaking to behold. She met a boy there, hopelessly lost and undeniably hungry. She does not remember his name nor the clothes that he wore, only his cherubic face and the color of his eyes.

Doe-eyed and full of wonder, a bright brilliant green.

Like Claude’s.

“I visited Almyra once.”

His hand stalls for a heartbeat, and then he smiles, intent on studying the fibers beneath a squashed cap. “Oh yeah? For work, I take it?”

She nods, thoughtful. What compelled her to blurt that out loud?

“A long time ago. I was probably no more than twelve. My father took on a contract to scout out refugees fleeing past Fódlan's Locket. Or was it a courier job? Smuggling immigrants… I don’t remember. I met a local boy there. A runaway, I think. I wanted to help him, but he wouldn’t tell me where he came from.”

“I don’t blame him. You were probably the first outsider he ever laid eyes on. You must have looked scary with your stone-cold eyes.” He chuckles, tightening his drawstring bag, satisfied by his haul. “He was probably covering his tracks. Smart kid.”

“Not so smart. He almost killed himself eating poisonous mushrooms.”

Claude laughs. “Sounds like something I would do.”

“Your eyes remind me of him.” 

“Really?” 

Claude looks her way, emerald green eyes sparkling with curiosity. Bilyana stares, enraptured. His eyes are not like those of a small boy. They are richer, deeper. Sharpened by age. His mirth evaporates in the heavy silence, heat suffusing his tan cheeks as he eventually averts his eyes, clearing his throat, striving to recover his composure behind a smooth smile. “Do you really find my eyes that interesting?”

She blinks, confused by his bashfulness. “Yes. They’re beautiful. The most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.”

Standing to relieve the soreness in her legs, Bilyana misses the flushed expression on his face, like that of a cherry shriveling beneath the heat of the sun. 

~ 

After two hours of searching, stumbling upon a bedding littered with droppings, they chance upon a clearing where a doe grazes alone. Hiding within the cover of dense shrubbery, Bilyana allows him to aim the shot. Instead of watching the doe, she watches him instead, appraising his form. His arms are taut, trained in stillness, exposing nary a tremble to the strain of holding the arrow for so long; his eyes focused and unblinking. A long moment passes in silence, yet he does not release even though he possesses the perfect opportunity.

Bilyana furrows her brow in confusion when he drops his bow arm with a sigh. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. The deer is walking funny… I think she’s pregnant.”

This startles her, and she looks out at the plump doe that continues to graze, her legs languid, spying the conspicuous bulge of her stomach for the first time. She mistook it for fat and counted her blessings too soon. Before she can regather her thoughts, Claude re-slings his bow on his back within her coat and rises from his perch, exiting out of the brush.

“Wait―.” She snatches his arm, panic pushing her onto her feet. “You’ll scare it―.”

“It’s fine. Just watch.” Claude smiles, brushing off her hand. “Trust me.”

She stares after him, stunned. The way he said those words... somehow, it compels her to loosen her stance, and she straightens, watching as he reaches into his pocket for a satchel of berries he foraged earlier, emptying it onto his palm. 

The doe shoots up into a frightened stance, startled by the twigs that snapped beneath their feet, the echo of their hushed voices. Its ears twitch, wide eyes staring intently. It does not bolt as Bilyana expected, rooted in place for some reason or another. Perhaps Claude’s decision to hide his bow had been a fortuitous one, if not calculating, because it stands there frozen, scrutinizing him. 

He creeps forward until he stops a good distance away, lowering to one knee so he can hold out his right hand bearing fruit.

Nothing. One minute passes, still nothing. 

Bilyana swallows, afraid to blink, afraid to scare it with the slightest of movements. Two minutes later, she takes to counting the seconds. Claude does not shift an inch, maintaining position despite the undeniable ache building in his legs, his eyes unwavering.

And then a miracle occurs. 

The doe snorts, drawn towards the scent of fresh berries. It steps forward, one cautious step at a time, curiosity luring her towards him. Bilyana stares, transfixed on the gentle creature that would trust its would-be hunter enough to sniff his hand. Lapping up the berries, it licks his palm for currant residue. 

“You want more? I’ve got plenty more.” Claude slowly stands, making sure not to startle it with any sudden movements as he reaches in his coat for another satchel, pouring some blueberries into his hand. “Here you go… Hey, that tickles!” Claude laughs, stroking it under the chin now as the doe seems insistent on nuzzling his hand for more. 

“Bilyana." He startles her with the casual call of her name, beckoning her with a bright smile. "Want to come closer?”

She never felt more afraid of approaching a docile animal. 

Wandering over to them, she tenses when the doe raises its head to stare at her, wary of her approach. _I knew it, it can sense my anxiety. _

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. She won’t hurt you. She’s with me.” Claude acts quick to placate it, stroking its slender neck. Even though it can’t possibly understand human speech, it can still sense his meaning clearly enough in the inflections of his voice, the gentility of his actions. Like her father, who can quiet any wild or brooding mare with a single word and soothing touch. This unexpected parallel relaxes her, leading Bilyana to hover by his side, drawing confidence from his presence to trust the doe not to bolt from her. 

“You want to try feeding her?”

“...sure.”

“Here." He clasps her hand, guiding it upward, shaking some berries onto her open palm. His fingers feel bony, yet strong, gentle and patient as they guide her forward. Her skin tingles where his heat ignites, and she stares at their hands, enraptured by the new sensation. Now she becomes aware of his proximity, how he stands a couple inches taller than her despite being younger. "Just hold it out to her, like this. Yeah, that's it… wait for her to come to you.” Even his voice near her feels warm and pleasant, soothing her nerves. 

The doe, however, warms to her slowly, sniffing her hand, before snorting, retracting her neck, studying her intently. Bilyana frowns, prickling from the rejection. “What’s wrong? Why won’t she eat from me?”

He hums, thoughtful. “Maybe it’s because you smell strongly of metal. See, you’re wearing more armor than me.”

"And you don't?" She narrows her eyes, looking him up from head to toe. No knee guards, shoulder pads, or chain mail, just a shirt and baggy pants. 

"Do you see me wearing any armor? Nah. I'm all _naturel_― Hey! What're you doing?"

"You smell… earthy. A little sweet." Bilyana pulls back to peer up at him, curious. Men tend to smell pungent and sweaty, heady from beer or mead, even smoke. She tolerates her father's scent, however, taking comfort in it when they retire for the evening, lulled by the scent of tobacco and horse musk. But Claude smells like autumn, of maple and pine; even subtler, the sweet hints of hazelnut and nutmeg. All the things she likes to taste in a hot mug of cocoa. She likes it, oblivious to his flustered gaze, the power her own blunt intensity cuts. The doe must agree with her, because it starts sniffing his hair, nuzzling his jaw.

"Hey, stop." He giggles, tickled by its snout. "I must be popular with the ladies today. You're _fawning_ all over me― Ack! Not my hair!"

She watches them, envious, regarding her gauntlets and breast plate with bewilderment. Of course. Animals not only possess a keen sense of hearing, but smell as well. Metal must smell unpleasant to them, even foreign, acting as a natural repellant. Bilyana wouldn’t be surprised if they could smell blood on her sheathed sword long after she has slain someone. Without hesitation, she proceeds to unhook her arm guards and, after a moment’s consideration, unties the harnesses that fasten her breast plate over her undershirt, placing them all down on the grass. 

Bilyana shivers from the stark cold that embraces her, wishing she had her coat. It fell off his shoulders when they tumbled out from behind the brush, so now they are both exposed to the morning elements. Straightening to regard the doe who watches her, she senses his body heat more acutely than before and leans on him despite herself, scavenging for warmth. Sensing his keen gaze on her, she tries again, extending her hand, the berries partially squashed. The doe lingers this time, sniffing her hand, lapping her palm. Bilyana jumps, startled by the tickling sensation of its tongue, the hot puffs of its breath.

“Careful there.” Claude chuckles, delighted by her moment of fright, his hand on her back.

Bilyana ignores him, does not even register his teasing smile, spellbound by the first time she bonded with an animal outside the cold steel touch of death dealt by her own hand. Immediate rustling echoes from a nearby brush and she snaps to attention at the same speed as the doe, looking towards the creature that emerges from the shadows.

A stag. 

Beautiful, tall, and majestic. Self-imposing in its broad, thick antlers.

_ Crap. _ Bilyana realizes Claude had said the word out loud, before wrapping his arms around her, drawing her close. Whether he intends to throw her in front of him or push her back, she cannot say for certain, but either way, he just removed himself of the means to wield his bow. Hardly reassuring. Its penetrating, hard gaze alone roots her in place, surprised to find that it intimidates her. 

"Look at the size of that thing. Must be her mate. I think it's trying to figure out if we’re dangerous.” True enough, the doe wanders away, sidling up to its broad side. “Be careful, though. One headbutt from that big boy and we’re good as dead.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that.” She mutters, her fingers itching to draw her sword. "Get behind me."

"What? No―."

"You're useless to me without your bow. Let go and do as I―"

A sharp, high-pitched squeal resounds from somewhere behind them, and the two deer bolt, vanishing into the trees. Claude and Bilyana twirl around in the direction of the sound, whipping out their bow and sword respectively. A boar leaps out onto the clearing, barreling towards them. Bilyana roots her stance, Claude knocks his arrow, and in an instant an iron-tipped javelin shoots out from behind the brush, piercing its back. It shrieks in agony and pain before collapsing at the center of the clearing, wheezing in its last throes.

Dimitri tumbles out from the path, breathing hard from exertion. "Claude! Lady Eisner! So that's where you were." 

"Dimitri!" Claude whines, dropping his arms. "You almost scared the living daylights out of us."

"No… Just you." Bilyana brushes him aside, walking over to the felled beast. Kneeling, she checks for a pulse, stroking its neck in comfort. _It's still alive…_ How odd to consider the life of an animal now when three hours ago she never would have spared a second thought for its thoughts or feelings. Unsheathing her knife, she slits its throat to grant it a painless death. Satisfied by the grim task, she stands to regard the blonde prince. 

"You were hunting as well?"

"Yes. Lord Jeralt said you were out hunting yourself, although I didn't know you took Claude with you… What happened to your coats?" 

Bilyana bristles from the clear suspicion swirling in his hardened gaze. What does he suspect they were doing? His cobalt eyes wander unbidden to a point below her face, fixated on her cleavage, until he remembers himself, his cheeks flushed scarlet. She stares, nonplussed, if not a little annoyed by this common occurrence. Why are people so magnetized by her breasts? It happens every time she removes her armor or dons casual clothes.

"Th-This is hardly the appropriate weather for scant attire!"

Claude chuckles, folding his arms behind his head. "It's a _ long _story…" 

"Claude, don't tell me... Were you scheming to seduce Lady Eisner this whole time? How scandalous of you!"

"Quite the opposite, actually." He grins, pretending to swoon in place, draping himself over her shoulder. "I found myself incapable of resisting her undeniable, laconic charm."

Bilyana deadpans, shoving him off. "He's joking. We did nothing of the sort."

He laughs, brushing off her barb as he fetches her crumbled coat.

Dimitri appears unconvinced, lifting a polite smile in regards to the pair who already seem too comfortable in each other's company. "At any rate, Lord Jeralt said we would need more game to feed everyone, plus some more for the road, so I volunteered."

"Understood.” She nods, appraising the boy dressed in black-silver armor. “...and good throw. That was a powerful thrust."

"Thank you!" Dimitri brightens, pleased by the curt compliment.

"I brought some rope. Help me tie it up."

"Certainly."

Bilyana busies herself with reattaching her metal arm guards, fastening the clasps before retrieving her breast plate, mindful of Claude's hovering. He looks to be offering her coat back and she pushes it towards him. It does not escape her notice how he strives to suppress his shivering, so she decides to coddle him a little longer.

"Keep it for now. I don't mind the cold."

"You sure? You’re too kind!” 

To empathize his unrepentant delight, he shoves his naked arms into the baggy sleeves, cocooning himself inside the fabric like a second skin. Bilyana stares, unsure of what to think. Claude looks even skinnier wearing a coat obviously tailored for an older man, especially one meant to be stockier. The jacket had been a gift from her father on her birthday six months ago, and Bilyana grew attached to it quickly, eager to make use of it once they ventured into Faerghus territory. 

The cuffs still prove too long as they end up overlapping his wrists. Not ideal for wielding a bow. It would disrupt the string, impede his fingers, yet he does not seem to mind in the least, flapping her floppy sleeves in his amusement. Angling one to smother the bottom half of his face, he breathes warmth into the cuff to thaw his aching hand. 

“You look to be having fun.” She quirks an eyebrow, amused.

His eyes squint beneath the weight of his giddy smile, his laughter muffled. “I don’t accept take-backsies."

Dimitri’s hands are slow at work as he watches them, applying an unnecessary amount of force into tightening the knots until he snaps the bones.

~

Edelgard had been in the middle of chopping wood, setting aside a pile for heating breakfast while collecting timber and logs for storage at Garreg Mach when she spies someone entering the clearing. At first she mistook him for Bilyana in that oversized large coat of hers, and she lifted her eyes to smile in greeting― only to retract it the moment she sees him sauntering over. She narrows her eyes, unamused. “What are you wearing? You look ridiculous. The coat does not suit you.”

“And a scowl does not suit a pretty face such as yours, but you don’t hear me saying anything.” Claude retorts in good humor, brushing off her scathing remark with a broad grin. “Bilyana took pity on me and my weakness for the cold, so she gallantly lent me her coat. It smells nice, like herbs…” He lifts the collar to his nose and takes a deep breath, humming in content. 

She scowls, disgusted by his nerve. “Do you have no shame, taking advantage of her kindness?”

“That’s rich coming from you, princess. You were practically mooning all over her last night, begging her to join your cause. Like a dog drooling over a bone.”

“You speak as if you harbor pure intentions.”

“When are intentions ever pure?” He shrugs, striding forward to stalk past her in direction of the stream. “At least I am not _that_ tactless.”

Edelgard continues to glare at him in her periphery, every nerve in her body screaming at her to act. He thinks her a fool, an arrogant royal who underestimates those she holds beneath her, but she can weave plots that would shock even the likes of him. Whereas he contents himself with petty ideas consisting of non-lethal sabotage, she constantly weighs the importance of lives for the sake of the future― such as the cost of one over the needs of the many. They are alone now. No one would be none the wiser.

Claude would get lost, presumed a runaway like Monica last year. She might need to call upon Hubert to assist with the complete disposal of his body if the feral beasts in the region failed to scavenge his carcass in time to render it unidentifiable. If she cuts him down now, she must consider where she can disguise the death blow best. Perhaps blunt force trauma instead of a clean, swift decapitation. Claw marks cannot justify a precise incision the width of a blade. 

Perhaps she can knock him unconscious and then choke him to death. Drag him to the river where the currents will carry him. Leave him out for the wolverines. They would pin the perpetrator on a straggling band of bandits who survived, seeking revenge. Poor Claude, naive to the ways of the world, venturing out alone only to be ambushed by bloodthirsty criminals. A needless tragedy; the final nail in the coffin for House Riegan. 

Tightening her grip on the handle of her axe, she wills the trembling in her hands to cease and whirls around, steeling herself― only for an oversized black coat to smother her face, stopping her short. “Pft! Wh-What― is the meaning of this?!” She gasps out, incensed, finally wrenching herself free from the offensive object to glare at him, confronted by the infuriating sight of his cheeky smile.

“C’mon, Edelgard. Be more honest with yourself. You like her!”

Her furious expression melts into bewilderment, shocked by his candid confession. 

Her hands grasp onto the fabric, pulling it up before the coat slides off her shoulders, and she clutches it close, allowing herself a moment of weakness. Yet try as she might, she cannot ignore the fact Claude's very scent and warmth morphs into Bilyana's own. Her nose cringes from the saccharine, exotic odor that saturates the collar, overpowering whatever subtle unique scent belongs to Lady Eisner. She lowers her hands, rueful. _What am I doing? Pining for a stranger..._

“I like her, too, so don’t expect me to back down.” 

She chuckles, warmed by the hilarity in his ludicrous claim. “Bold of you to say, considering you leave much to be desired.”

“Hey, it’s not like I grew up expecting to lead an entire nation of stuffy nobles. Cut me some slack.” Claude pouts, folding his arms behind his head, shifting his weight on one foot.

Edelgard pauses, scrutinizing the boy before her. _That’s right… _

Claude had not been pronounced heir until exactly one year ago, shortly after the public announcement of his uncle’s passing. Many expected Godfrey von Riegan to assume the seat after his father’s retirement, the current head of House Riegan, yet an unfortunate accident befell him, throwing the Leicester Alliance into chaos. Holst of House Goneril had been the prime candidate, having amassed quite the popular vote as the war general who kept the Almyran invaders at bay from crossing the border. Yet a boy of dubious origins appeared, a presumed son of a missing daughter born into the Riegan family. How convenient. She suspected foul play.

To what extent Claude’s involvement ran in such an elaborate scheme, only the Goddess knows.

“I have been meaning to ask you this for awhile now. Where did you come from, Claude von Riegan? If one can even call you that. What kind of life had you been living up until the point of your legitimacy? You’re a mystery... One that keeps returning to the council table, confounding even the most knowledgable of informants.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I am being serious. The least you can do is be forthright.”

“Your sense of entitlement knows no bounds. I hate to break it to ya, princess, but I’m not obligated to tell you anything.”

She presses on, irked by his evasive attitude. “House Riegan was on the brink of collapse. His only son deceased, his only daughter missing, and then you magically appeared. No one knew of your existence until last year. Who were you before your legitimacy?”

“You're _really _not gonna let this go, are you? Okay. If you really want to know… Then you must be willing to share one of your greatest secrets.”

She narrows her eyes, impressed by his nerve. Too many secrets sleep within her blood for her to part with them easily. In order to coax them out of her would mean earning her absolute trust or her sincerest sympathies. In the worst case scenario, she would not hesitate to spill blood to ensure her worst secret never spreads. Nothing about Claude inspires her trust or fondness, least of all her respect. Dimitri, if left unchecked, could prove to be her worst adversary in the future, and she would prefer it if he did not live long enough to learn of her betrayal.

“Then that’s my answer. Nice try, though. Can’t say you have no clout." He smirks, folding his arms behind his head, pivoting on his heel. Edelgard debates whether or not to follow, unwilling to lose this chance― until she notices him stop a few steps in, his stance absent of his usual mirth. "I know I’m not what anyone expected, or wanted… but I have goals of my own. A dream, if you will.” He trails off, thoughtful, turning around to regard her with conviction burning strong in his eyes. “But I’m not confident I can achieve them on my own. That’s why a man could do with more allies. Allies like _her_. You understand, don’t you?”

“...That still doesn’t answer my question.”

“Sure it does. It’s just not the answer you wanted. Sometimes you gotta settle for what you get.”

Edelgard resigns herself to watching him go, frustration gnawing at her bottom lip. He always knew the precise words to crawl under her skin.

~

"Miss Eisner."

Bilyana looks up from her task, striking flint until a small flame catches on the wood, and rises to her feet, regarding the young woman dressed in black and regal red. Her eyes glance at the bundle of black folded neatly in her gloved hands, recognizing it as her jacket. 

"I believe this is yours."

"Thank you." She blinks, confused. Claude must have dropped the task of returning it on her. Would that be considered thoughtful or lazy? Unraveling her coat, she throws it over her shoulders, shoving her arms through the open slits of her sleeves, relieved to wear it again. "Is Claude alright?"

"Pardon? Oh, yes. He seemed to be in high spirits. More so than usual, I'm loathe to admit..." Edelgard mutters, exhaling through her nose, recovering quick with an elegant smile. "At any rate, would you care to join me for breakfast? I still have much I wish to talk with you about."

"Like the Empire?"

Bilyana must confess, she cares very little for the political affairs of the three countries. Their ongoing territorial disputes and conflicts never affected the way she lived. However, after meeting the heirs of each House, she would be lying if she confessed harboring no interest in hearing their point of views. Their minds are young and malleable, as they are not yet King, Emperor, and Duke. She would love to hear about the way they lived, upbringings so different from her own... 

Edelgard nods. "I realized how rude I was, eager to enlist your talent when I neglected to share how my country could benefit you. Allow me to rectify this mistake."

"You don't have to be so formal with me. You can talk to me as yourself."

"Is that... alright?" She falters, flustered by such an offer. "It doesn't... feel wholly appropriate. I... You are my superior, at least in combat and strategy. I must give you your proper due."

Bilyana sighs, sensing an unpleasant weight squeeze her chest. She really has no experience dealing with these kind of nobles, so reserved and set on their ways of stiff politeness. To be flanked by two prominent heirs who hold themselves with the utmost of pride and dignity overwhelms her, uncertain of how to interact with them. She prefers Claude's casual speech best, and wishes that Dimitri and Edelgard would take a page out of his book, at least in regards to addressing her.

"Miss Eisner?"

"Bilyana." She corrects her, irked by the title fixated on her family name. "Call me by my first name." 

"If... If that is what you wish."

"Bilyana!" His unmistakable voice rings like a bell above the myriad of voices floating around camp, and before she can turn around, his arm slinks around her shoulder, hooking her by the neck. Claude leans in close, peering down at her. "Let's eat together! I want to hear more stories about your mercenary days."

"Claude." Edelgard crosses her arms, pursing her mouth in a thin line. "Mind yourself. You are too familiar with Bi― Bil― Miss Eisner!" She stutters, absolutely flustered in her failed attempts to match him for wit. Her usually calm and composed face combusts, coloring her pale cheeks crimson. "Besides, I had already asked her to dine with me first."

"Aw, even you can make a cute face sometimes, princess― Ow!"

"Quiet, you." She scowls, mortified, pinching his arm through his thick sleeve.

"He can join us." Bilyana cuts between them, growing fond of their silly antics already. "Dimitri, too. I would like to hear more about you all."

"Now that's what I call a party! I'm in."

"If we must..."

~

Once everyone had their fill, the knights and mercenaries split to board their respective caravans. Alois opts out to walk alongside his three young charges, and they take to leading the front, a small score of knights flanking them. Bilyana hangs back, preferring to ride with her father for the first half of the way, wanting to rest her feet for awhile. After Jeralt hauls her onto his massive steed, he situates himself behind her and whips the reigns, urging Jagen forward. A companionable silence falls between them, the clop of horse hooves and echo of clinking armor a comforting old tune.

"So, what do you think of the brats? They seem quite taken with you."

_That's an understatement_, Sothis chimes, her voice echoing in amusement. Bilyana scoffs. "There's never a dull moment."

He chuckles. "I bet. I'm surprised you haven't scared them off, yet."

"It's having the opposite effect."

"I hear ya." Jeralt hums, thoughtful. "What about the kid?" Confused, she inclines her head towards him, and he elaborates. "You know, the one who follows you around like a little bitch. It's cute."

She drops her gaze, facing forward, watching Claude as he converses with Dimitri, his hands waving around wildly, characterizing his words. With the way he readily attached himself to her earlier, Claude does bring to mind a newborn puppy imprinted on his mother. A moment later, the prince throws his head back to laugh, and Claude grins, victorious. For a moment, Bilyana wishes she had joined them on the ground so she could have heard his joke. 

"I don't know. He's interesting."

"He sure loves to talk a lot, I noticed. Gives me the impression he's up to no good. I'd be wary around him."

"He means no harm." She brushes off his concern, surprised by the assurance in her words and wonders why, recalling her favorite impressionable moments of him. Catching him in prayer. His excitement over poisonous mushrooms. Feeding a deer in lieu of launching the arrow. Playing with the sleeves of her jacket. His positive energy, his affectionate ease. His mischievous smile. Never once did she feel smothered by his company. "I like him."

"Oh yeah? That's a first." Silence settles for another moment, creating space for his thoughts. "You know, a part of me wonders if I should have done this sooner."

"What?"

"Enlisting you in school. We were constantly on the move, never staying in one place for too long. You never learned to make friends your age. I sometimes wondered if you've been lonely and resented me for it."

Shocked by the undercurrent of remorse hidden in his gruff voice, Bilyana peers up at him, studying his scarred face. "Never. I had you. I was never lonely."

His stoic mask cracks into a smile, and his eyes soften, warmed by her words. "Is that so? At least I've been doing something right."

Her lips curl in the corners, comforted by his steady gaze. Facing forward, she allows herself to melt in his arms, tempted to doze off, feeling like a little girl again. Somehow, Claude manages to catch her eye, his body twisted around to glance in their direction, and she quirks an eyebrow, amused by his brilliant smile, how it beams across the distance. When he waves at her, she decides to humor him and wave back, but then Edelgard steals his attention away too soon, annoyance plain on her face as Claude says something, no doubt testing her. Bilyana looks longingly at their backs. Maybe once they reach the monastery, she will have the courage to ask her father if they could stay for awhile. 

_I want to get to know you more. _

**Author's Note:**

> Jeralt's the kind of man to swear like a sailor. You can't convince me otherwise. XD I drew inspiration from my own father for Jeralt, as well as my relationship with him. Why couldn't we have had support conversations for Jeralt? Geez!
> 
> I really enjoyed sprinkling the duality of each character throughout the fic, as well as their animal motifs. I just enjoyed writing everything about this fic! I'm actually developing headcanons and plot bunnies as I go. ^^
> 
> A fanart of child!Claude and young!Byleth inspired the (AU-ish?) headcanon that they met once before and it's been so long that they forgot. I actually want to explore that more. 
> 
> Also, I want to see a fanart of Claude wearing Byleth's coat. I've seen several of Edelgard, but not of our two boys. Can you imagine how cute and obnoxious he'd look? XD
> 
> Thank you for reading! Let me know what were your favorite parts.


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